


Friendships

by Szarka



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Autistic Sherlock Holmes, Character Development, Friendship Book, Gen, Post-Season/Series 01, Sherlock Learning To Accept That She Has Friends, friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:31:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szarka/pseuds/Szarka
Summary: After the end of Season 1, Sherlock is slowly starting to accept that she, in fact, for the first time in her life, has friends. It does take her some work.





	Friendships

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I completely agree with the rest of the fandom that the "you are my friend" scene in Episode 8 turned out super romantic, but I think you are all so focussed on the shipping that you miss just how significant the "first friend" bit is. I've met the person I consider to be my first real friend when I was 17, so I still remember quite well how weird but also really great it is.  
> 2) Sherlock is autistic. Don't even try to fight me on this one.  
> 3) Most of this story is my personal experience projected on Sherlock. Lazy writing, I know, but it did seem to work.  
> 4) The last three characters have not yet appeared in the series, but do exist in other universes. They are supposed to be the Miss Sherlock version of: Sergeant Watabe - Sergeant Wilson. Miki Muto - Mary Morsan. Itsuki Ando - Irene Adler.  
> 5) My eternal thanks to Ao3 user Nadare for helping me with the names! <3

It took everyone quite some time to recover from Moriwaki. Wato went back to therapy, only this time, she made certain that it was a trustworthy therapist, a personal acquaintance of Kento. Their latest adventure hadn't exactly helped her PTSD, but with time, it got better. As to Sherlock, she wasn't one to easily talk about her feelings, but she was remarkably friendlier to the people around her, and less quick to brag about her superior intelligence. Wato couldn't quite decide whether this was a good thing, or something to be concerned about.

Than one day, a month or a month and a half after she'd started her therapy, she came home after a session exhausted, and only wanting to go to bed and maybe listen to an audio book, and found Sherlock waiting for her in the living room. Mrs Hatano always made sweet tea after her therapy sessions, so this time, too, she sat down in her chair to drink it before retreating to her room. Sherlock didn't talk to her, but she did get up from behind her computer, and started to play Wato's favorite song on her cello. They sat there for a long time together, enjoying the music, when Sherlock suddenly stopped and asked if Wato could also fix an appointment with her therapist for her. She answered with yes, and Sherlock continued to play, as if nothing had happened.

From than on, they took turns going to the counseling. A couple of times, they even had a session together, intended mostly to make sure that they both knew where the other one was standing, and how they could support each other the best.

It was on one of these sessions that Wato brought up something that had been worrying her for a long time now: Even if she was closer to Sherlock than ever before, their relationship was… strange. She never knew where they were standing, if her roommate was happy to see her or just wanted to be left alone. They had finally admitted to being friends, but the ease that had always marked her friendships was not there. Sherlock always seemed tense, a little awkward, as if something about Wato was bothering her, and Wato on her side worried that she was unknowingly doing something wrong. Their relationship had been so much easier when they had both pretended not to like one another.

« It's nothing. », waved Sherlock away her concerns. « I am just not used to having _friends_. »

« I remember you saying... » Wato swallowed, trying not to be thrown back to the rooftop, gun in her hand aiming at the woman who had become so important to her over the past months, one part of her mind desperately trying to fight the other part, determined to pull he trigger. She relived that moment often enough in her nightmares.

«  You said that I was your first real friend. »

« You are. »

« But surely you had friends before! Other children you played with, colleagues you went out with to eat... »

Sherlock laughed her very artificial laugh,  the one that she reserved for situations that she wanted to express she thought of as incredibly stupid.

« Me? Do you really think that anybody would have wanted to be friends with  _me_ ?! »

Actually, Wato couldn't think of any scenario where somebody would  _not_ want to be friends with Sherlock. True, she was a little bleak, and a little unfriendly,  impolite even. Sure, she made very clear that she was more clever than you could hope to ever be, and got caught up in her cases and experiments, ignoring everybody around her.  She didn't understand the point of most fun activities, and instead wanted to do things that by any normal definition were  _not_ fun. She kept complaining about Wato's fashion sense, didn't help enough with the household chores,  played the cello in the middle of the night  and sometimes didn't say a word for days.  But in her own way, she was also very compassionate, radiating of  enthusiasm when she did something she loved, and by far the most brilliant person Wato had ever met.

Actually, now that she thought about it, she kind of could imagine why a s t ranger would not like Sherlock.

«  Tell her more about it. », said the therapist gently when the silence stretched out for too long.

« There is not much to tell. », said Sherlock, and laid her chin on her knees. She was sitting in her typical pose, legs pulled up, and both arms hugging them close to her chest. The therapist was kind enough not to complain about this unconventional use of his chair. « I didn't know what to make of the other children, and they didn't know what to make of me. We were all happier keeping a distance. »

«  How sad. », said Wato. « You must have been very lonely. »

S herlock waved her hand  dismissively. « Nah, I had my books and I could observe the others. I liked to pretend that I was a spy reporting on what they did. It was fun. No, the only problem was when adults tried to force me to play with them.  Because playing with other children is  _important_ , apparently.  »

Wato thought back of her own childhood, and all the fun games she had played with her friends, and decided that she agreed with the adults in Sherlock's past. A childhood without friends sounded terribly sad to her. But maybe it was just one of those things where she and Sherlock thought differently.

« Sherlock has given me permission to tell you something about her. », injected the therapist. « She has been diagnosed as being on the autistic spectrum. »

« I know. », said Wato. It was, after all, fairly obvious.

« Heh? You know? », repeated Sherlock.

« I studied medicine, Sherlock. I know what autism looks like. »

« Why didn't you say anything? »

« You never said anything about my scars, either. » It was actually the first time that any of them openly acknowledged that Wato even  _had_ scars. Sherlock  just always made enough cucum b er toner to give some to her, but never commented on why she did it.

« Anyway, we didn't know it back than. I only got diagnosed when I was mid twenties, so as a child, everyone was always complaining that I didn't act _normal_. »

… And that was something that Wato could only too well see happening.

« And after you finished school? Did you never have anybody after that? »

Sherlock waved her hand again. « Nah. Not worth the trouble. I like being alone. »

« No wonder you didn't want to call me your friend when I moved in with you. »

« You were a nuisance. I don't have _friends_. »

«  We are working on that. », said the therapist. « But as you can imagine, it is an important part of her  identity by now, so it takes and will take her much work to unlearn it. »

Sherlock buried the entire lower half of her face behind her knees, so that her voice came out sounding muffled.

« The problem is that I don't have a script. I have no idea how to behave with a friend, and I don't want to make any mistakes that would make you go away. »

« Don't be so bleak. », said Wato. « I have put up with you so far, why would I leave you now because of a mistake. »

Sherlock threw her a  sidewards look, and something in her eyes made her look so  _vulnerable_ , that Wato found herself automatically taken back. It wasn't easy for Sherlock to talk about her feelings, she knew that. Even less so to admit tha t she didn't know everything, to relinquish control over something. Especially something as important to her as the relationship with the person she was closest to (not counting her brother and Mrs Hatano).

«  I won't leave you. », repeated she.

Sherlock buried her face completely in her knees.

 

Their relationship became easier after that discussion. For once, Sherlock didn't try to hide her autistic traits any more. She had been very unapologetic about being herself ever since Wato first met her, so it came as a surprise that, apparently, she still had hidden away some parts of her symptoms. Or maybe Wato just had dismissed them as unimportant quirks, and payed no closer attention to them before.

Sherlock's occasional need for complete silence took a  very different meaning. So did the times when she  pressed her hands on her ears to keep out someone's voice.  Or the way she moved her hands when she was thinking or under stress. In addition to that, she started humming to herself. Her monologues about crime fighting or natural sciences became more intense as she stopped trying to hide her  enthusiasm. She became less  hesitant to ask for lights or sounds to be turned off.  Wato learned to recognize the signs of her not understanding a social situation, and took the  habit of explaining it to her unprompted.  Sometimes, Sherlock asked her to. Sometimes, she even admitted to being confused about elements of their own friendship.

L ike Wato casually telling her that she loved her.

« Why do you do that? », exclaimed she. « It's weird, we're not in love! »

Wato, who had been  folding loundry ( _« I love you, but could you for once help me a little? »_ ), froze mid movement.

« Huh? », asked she, perfectly confused.

« You telling me that you love me. It's weird. »

Wato was still staring in surprise at her roommate. « Of course I love you? You are my friend? »

Sherlock was slowly spinning with her chair, the way she never could resist doing when she was sitting in an office chair.

« So you are telling all your friends that you love them all the time? »

« Yes? Is that a problem? »

« It's weird. », replied Sherlock.

« They are my friends. », declared Wato. « Should I stop telling you that? »

« Nah. » Sherlock turned back to her computer. « It's fine. How should I respond? »

« You could say that you love me, too. », proposed Wato, and returned to her laundry. « And help me with at least some of these chores. »

Sherlock only snorted, and didn't bother to turn back again. However, the next time Wato said it (after she'd finished explaining a long chain of her deductions), she paused a moment and said « I love you, too. » Than she looked a little lost and asked : « Like this? »

« Exactly like that. », smiled Wato  at her best friend , feeling a wave of happiness  and pride surge through her. 

«  It's weird. », repeated the detective.

« You'll get used to it. », promised Wato. And Sherlock did.

 

Than there was the touching thing. Sherlock wasn't even quite sure why she confided in Wato that she actually would have liked to be able to casually touch people, but the fact was that she did.

«  I have trained everybody around me in my early teens to keep their hands off me. », said she. « And I needed that back than, but now I could handle being touched, but I can't just... » She waved her hand. «  I am a little sorry about that, because human beings need touch from other humans. I've just read this article about it... »

«  You can try to touch me, if you like. », offered Wato when Sherlock  was done explaining the latest research she'd just read about  the subject . « And I could try to touch you from time to time. »

« Ok. », said Sherlock, pulling her house coat tighter around herself. « But I am not sure that I can support it at all times. »

A s a matter of fact, she couldn't. Wato had already observed that Sherlock became more sensitive when she was tired or hadn't eaten. Not in the good  _detective notices things that other people don't_ \- way, in the  _she_ _has difficulty blocking out the_ _unimportant noise_ \- way.  It didn't take her long to get a feeling for her friend's boundaries.

At first, it was Sherlock who took the initiative. It was always at home, and she always had to make a conscious effort to do it, but she started to touch Wato. Laying a hand on her arm was the most common, later she started to throw her entire arm across her shoulder. Wato replied with the same gestures. Than one day, they were walking down the street, and Sherlock randomly linked their arms. The next time, it was Wato who started it, and soon enough, it became a common occurrence to see the two detectives walk down the street together, arm in arm, discussing vividly something the other passengers could not hear.

 

M rs Hatano started to interest herself for crafts. She was well known for  changing her  hobbies all the time, but  for once , she stuck with it. Probably because  _making something creative with your hands_ was such a broad and  diverse activity in on itself. She tried her luck with paint, with wood, with clay, tissue and even with metal. The end result was varied, but when it wasn't some  unrecognizable piece of modern art, it actually looked quite good. Mrs Hatano started to make gifts for her friends.

Wato got a customized flower pot holder.

« Oh, Mrs Hatano, this is beautiful! », exclaimed the young woman, holding it up in the light and turning it in her hands to better view it from every angle. « Thank you so much! »

« It wasn't easy to make. », said Mrs Hatano proudly. « Look here, at this part... » And than she proceeded to explain the pot holder making process in great detail. Wato listened attentively, sometimes making little _Oh!_ s and _Ah!_ s at the appropriate moments.

« Mrs Hatano, that is so interesting! », exclaimed she when her landlady was finished. « Thank you so much! I shall treasure it forever! » She meant every word. « What are you going to make next? »

«  Well, I haven't decided yet. », answered Mrs Hatano. « I would like to make something for Sherlock, but I don't have any good ideas a b out what she'd like. »

Wato did have an idea.

The next day, she stopped by at the shop for gardening equipment and bought a set of noise canceling headphones. She had been thinking about those for quite some time now, but always decided that it wasn't worth the money, since Sherlock, with her keen sense of style, would never wear them.

Mrs Hatano wrapped the headband in ocher yellow silk, and attached a piece of semi-transparent white tissue that would fall down over the back of the wearer's head. She than decorated it with pearls, making it look more like the veil of a bride or the crown of a Western princess than something worn by construction workers. It suited Sherlock beautifully, and from than on, she wore them regularly when at home. She still sent Wato out of the room occasionally, but at least stopped complaining about her breathing too loudly. Not to mention that she really looked nice in them.

 

Sherlock came home one day and found a pack wrapped in gift paper on her chair,  _to Sherlock, from Wato_ written on it with permanent marker. 

« What is this? », asked she.

Wato looked up from her laptop, where she had been typing something, curled up in her own chair. Her face lightened up with excitement.

« A gift. For you. »

« I can see that. », said Sherlock. « Why? »

Wato shrugged. « It reminded me of you. »

Sherlock carefully opened the package. She never liked tearing open gift paper, and prided herself on that she could open  _anything_ neatly, hardly destroying any  information that the original wrapper unknowingly left behind abou t themselves. This wrapping was unquestionably Wato : Cheap and minimalistic, but done with much precision and  indigenous care.

It contained a book. Sherlock looked at the cover, than at her roommate, genuinely puzzled.

« Heh? A Friendship Book? »

« We used to have them as children. » Wato smiled fondly at the memory. « We would pass the books around, and everybody filled them out. It was so much fun, and I figured that you have passed out on it. »

« Oh, I had a Friendship Book. », said Sherlock. « It was stupid. »

« Yes, but now that you have real friends, I thought that you might give it another try. »

« I don't have  _friends_ , Wato. »

« Yes. », said Wato. « Yes you do. »

 

Wato was the first one to have written in the Friendship Book. Actually, she had filled it out even  _before_ giving it to Sherlock. She'd even drawn roses in the margins. (The red rose was their common favorite flower, which they had found out by accident during a case involving a serial killer leaving  roses of different color next to the bodies of his victims.) It was a Friendship Book for adults, so instead of the usual questions about the favorite color, it asked less stupid ones about live philosophy and the best thing that had ever happened to you.  _Meeting you_ , Wato had answered to that one. Sherlock discovered to her surprise that she found the book strangely  heartwarming.

 

T here was a two pages reserved for the owner of the book. Sherlock didn't even know what she was thinking when she filled it out. She certainly did not know why she enjoyed it.

 

Mrs Hatano was the first person she asked to write in her book. As was to be expected, the landlady was  _delighted_ . She sat with them in the living room while she filled out the questions, chatting happily and answering all the questions in length before writing down the few words there was actually  room for.  Her answer to the  _top 3 on my Bucket List_ question was simply  _I will live forever_ .

 

W hen Sherlock asked Kento to write in the book, her brother's first reaction was to laugh out loud. 

He did fill it out, of course he did. He took it home and brought it back the next time they met with a handwriting that was almost calligraphy. He'd answered the question _who is your idol?_ with _myself_.

 

She wouldn't have asked Inspector Reimon or Sergeant Shibata, had it not been for Wato's nagging. They worked together often enough, and their relationship had grown closer since Moriwaki, sure, but they were not _friends_. She and Wato had this argument a couple of times before the doctor decided to settle matters once and for all, and _asked_ them, right in Sherlock's presence what they thought about the detective.

« She's rude. », said Shibata at once. « But I think she is trying to be nice now. »

« She is very good at solving cases. », added Reimon. « I like working with her. »

« Do you think that you are friends? », asked Wato.

« Maybe. », said Reimon carefully glancing at Sherlock. « Why? »

« You see, Sherlock has this Friendship Book, and she has been wanting to ask you to write in it... »

« I have _not_! », exclaimed Sherlock, but nobody payed any attention to her.

« A Friendship Book? », asked Reimon, his eyes sparkling like they always did when Sherlock did something he considered to be out of the ordinary. « My little daughter has one of those! »

« But I thought she didn't have any friends? », asked Shibata.

« She does, and it is a book for adults. », answered Wato.

« Of course I'd be honored to write in it. », said Reimon. « You too, Shibata. »

« Only if she asks me herself. », said Shibata. « And says _please_. »

They all turned expectantly at Sherlock. Shibata even had that triumphing look about him that he did when he managed to humiliate or outtrick her.

«  _Fine._ », sighed Sherlock. « Shibata, would you do me the honor to write in my Friendship Book? _Please?_ »

To her surprise, they both had really nice things to say about her at the appropriate questions. Not just her mind and deductive skills, she'd already known that those were the best in Asia, but about her as a person.

 

Sherlock met Inspector Watabe when Reimon and Shibata were busy with another case, and she got called in by her superiors to help solving a very neatly and professionally executed murder and break-in They got along surprisingly well since their first introduction to one another.

In many ways, she was a very typical Tokyo policewoman: Capable, quick thinking, dedicated to her job and to her family. She was also interested in linguistics, and knew a lot about rare and on the edge of disappearing languages. And she liked chemistry.

At that moment, Sherlock was just in the middle of a series of chemical experiments about poisons, and had difficulties thinking or talking about anything else. Wato and Mrs Hatano did their best to be patient with her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for them, and Sherlock knew that, she really did, but just couldn't stop herself. When she got the call for the case, she and Wato were both only too happy to accept it, in the hope that it would break up a little her fixation. It… didn't quite go as planned. Sherlock solved the case almost immediately, and they only had to catch the murderer. She, Wato, Watabe and her partner were waiting at the police station for her to reemerge at the point Sherlock had predicted, and the detective's thoughts returned to her experiments.

She started to think out loud. Wato gathered all her patience, let sink her phone she had been playing a game on, and got ready to ask semi-interested questions at carefully planned time intervals, like she always did. Watabe however looked actually interested? It was so unexpected that Sherlock needed a minute or two to realize this, and by than, she was already bombarding her with questions about the experiments. Clever questions, that actually helped Sherlock.

Wato sighed with relief, and wandered off with Watabe's partner, while the two women got a pen and a paper, enthusiastically discussing the chemical formulas in Sherlock's experiment. After that, she admittedly lost a little track of time, because the next time she saw them, it was five hours later, the murderer caught, the paperwork filled out, and it was time to go home.

« You should have called me. », complained Watabe, blushing.

« From what Wato-san has told me, the biggest help you could provide at the moment was to keep Miss Sherlock here busy and out of our way. », replied her partner.

They met more often after that for a cup of tea and chemical equations. Watabe got well along with Wato, too, only that they were usually talking about romantic movies and other boring things that Sherlock did her very best to forget as soon as she heard them.

When she decided to ask Watabe to write in her Friendship Book, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.

 

Than there was Itsuki Ando, the person who Sherlock just couldn't make sense of. He was an actor, who run a side business in blackmailing people. Sherlock and Wato stopped him and chased him and his finance out of Tokyo, making it very clear that if he entered their city again, they _would_ hand him over to the police. It was a closed case.

Than he added her as a friend on Facebook.

For some reason, Sherlock accepted.

They started to talk. At first, it was empty chatter that frustrated her beyond measure, but soon, they found a common ground with classical music. They discovered that they had more and more things in common, and ended up writing each other regularly, spending hours chatting on Facebook. Itsuki married his fiance shortly after their meeting with Sherlock, and it was a happy marriage. He talked a lot about how much he loved his wife. Sherlock talked about her experiments. He told her about the theater group he'd found a job at. She told him about chasing criminals. He wrote her at the end of her cases, asking if she was unharmed. She wrote him before important performances, telling him to do his best. According to Wato, this was a very thoughtful thing to do.

Despite all of this, she still didn't _trust_ him.

That first time they had met, they had engaged in a battle of wits that Sherlock had won, but only because they'd found out about Itsuki's fiance and used her to convince him to step down. The fact remained that Itsuki Ando had outwitted her, and while Moriwaki'd come close, he had been the only person to date to do so. That alone was deeply unsettling, and the fact that Sherlock seriously suspected that he'd continued with his blackmailing business didn't help. She couldn't prove it, but luckily had enough dirt on him from before to effectively keep him away from Tokyo.

She did like him. He was clever and seemed to think in a way close enough to hers to understand her where Wato could not.

She did think that he liked her, too, otherwise why would he keep writing with her. But _why_ he liked her, she couldn't even guess.

Than again, she didn't even understand why Wato or Inspector Reimon liked her. It didn't necessarily say anything about Itsuki.

Unable to give him her Friendship Book, and unwilling to risk sending it him per post (even if she _had_ trusted him, which she did not, she wouldn't have risked that), they spent a pleasant and memorable evening on Facebook with her sending him the questions per Messenger, and copying down his answers in her best hand writing.

 

Wato worked half time with Sherlock, the other half in the hospital. It was there that she met Miki Muto, a nurse. They didn't really talk to one another at first, until one day, out of the blue, he asked for hers and Sherlock's help. Naturally, they accepted, and Sherlock had to admit that compared to her average clients, he really was helpful.

What was less helpful was that he fell madly in love with Wato over the course of the case, And Wato with him.

Her misadventure with Moriya Toru had been traumatizing enough to stop Wato not only to date, but to look at pretty men altogether. Her unfortunate love for romance did remain, but she lived it out by staying at home and watching boring movies and reading uninteresting books about people falling in love. This arrangement quite suited Sherlock, because it was a lot less annoying and dangerous than actual relationships with actual people, and she didn't have to worry about Wato's new boyfriends every other week.

Romances were stupid. But Miki Muto was not.

As a matter of fact, despite herself, Sherlock even found that she started to like that man.

Sometimes, he visited them. _Them_ , not just Wato. Sometimes, he listened to Sherlock talk about her experiments. Sometimes, he even helped them with a case. Sometimes, he made Wato laugh. Sometimes, Sherlock laughed, too.

When he thought about asking her to move in with him, he asked Sherlock's opinion first.

« She is a lousy roommate. », said Sherlock at once. It wasn't true, and none of them had meant that seriously for a long time, but they still kept telling each other that the other one was terrible to be around, one little habit that had stuck with them from that time a long time ago, before Moriwaki, before Sherlock started to open up.

« I love her, Sherlock. », said Miki. « And I know that she loves me. Do you think that trying to advance our relationship would be a very stupid thing to do? »

« Love is stupid. », said Sherlock. « So are relationships. But I do think that Wato would like it. »

She pulled up her legs and hugged her knees, trying to press tight enough to make the pressure in her chest go away. Living without Wato was… Not something she wanted. At all.

Cursed Miki caught on on it, and he guessed easily what she was thinking.

« She isn't leaving you, Sherlock. », said he gently. « Nobody is. We are your friends, we always will be here with you. »

Sherlock nodded. She knew. She wanted Wato and Miki to be happy. It still wasn't easy.

They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Sherlock was able to push the sad thoughts from her, and come up with something cheerful to distract themselves.

« What kind of friend are you even, you still haven't written in my Friendship Book. Wait here, I'll go and fetch it for us. »

 

The first evening without Wato was really lonely. It was weird, because she had spent most of the nights with Miki for a long time now anyways, but somehow this was different.

Sherlock found that she couldn't focus on chemistry right now. So she did what she always did, and sat down to play the cello. She played for some time, but somehow, it didn't feel right. Something was missing, and most frustratingly, it wasn't the fact that something was missing that disturbed her, but that feeling of wrongness she couldn't chase away with logic.

Her phone beeped with a message from Wato. _Going to bed now, sleep well and don't stay up all night. Wato._

Sherlock put down her phone, but before she could continue with her music, her eyes fell on the Friendship Book, lying next to her computer. She got up and fetched it.

As she turned the pages, starting with the last entry, she was confronted with photos of different people and different handwritings, all of them carrying too many happy memories to count.

Miki Muto. Itsuki Ando. Sergeant Watabe. Sergeant Shibata and Inspector Reimon. Kento. Mrs Hatano. Wato.

Sherlock jumped when the door opened and Mrs Hatano came in.

« Sherlock? », asked she. « I heared you play, and I was wondering if I could come in and listen? »

« Yes, of course. » Sherlock pointed at the third empty seat, the one Mrs Hatano always sat in. « What should I play? »

« Bach. », answered Mrs Hatano without hesitating, but Sherlock did not move at once. Instead, she sat there and stared at the open Friendship Book in her lap.

« Sherlock? », asked Mrs Hatano. « Is everything all right? »

« Huh? », asked Sherlock. « Oh yes, I was just thinking. » She traced her finger over one of Wato's red roses, than looked up at Mrs Hatano, and smiled. « I actually have friends now. It's weird. »

**Author's Note:**

> Again, thank you Nadare for helping me with the names. Their AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare


End file.
